


Brambleclaw+Squirrelflight drabble collection

by solacefruit



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: F/M, as always some tinkering of names and such, just send them in to the tumblr account in the summary!, still accepting prompts if you're interested
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22597753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solacefruit/pseuds/solacefruit
Summary: A collection of short drabbles and ficlets about Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight in response to prompts from readers on tumblr (@burnt-sycamore).
Relationships: Brambleclaw/Squirrelflight (Warriors)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 95





	1. Brambleclaw pampers Squirrelflight

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: _Brambleclaw pampering Squirrelflight when they are expecting kits._

“Are you comfortable?” asked Brambleclaw for the third time since he had entered the nursery. He was currently scrutinising the thin layer of moss on the nursery floor as though daring it to be anything other than perfect. 

“ _Yes_ ,” said Squirrelflight, trying not to betray her exasperation. “Very. Couldn’t be more so.”

“All right,” said Brambleclaw with a single satisfied nod. “And you’re not hungry?”

“No,” said Squirrelflight. “That second vole you brought me was plenty.” 

Brambleclaw didn’t seem to notice the gentle mocking. Instead, he stood in thought before her, comically serious, even as his ears were pushed to the side by the low, curling branches of the brambles that covered the nursery. 

It was a small space, which was any nursing mother’s preference; the close-pressing darkness of it felt comforting to Squirrelflight already, and she knew as soon as the kittens were born, she would feel safest keeping them here, wedged between stones and thorns, away from the light, from the sky, from the cold. It was some deep feeling left to her from ancestors long passed, she assumed; powerful and compelling, even though the kittens were still kicking inside her sister’s belly, and not her own.

However snug as the den felt usually, the nursery seemed impossibly small whenever Brambleclaw was inside it. He filled the space, Squirrelflight always imagined, like a badger might fit in a rabbit warren—which was to say, _badly_. There was an out-of-placeness about his bulk, crammed in under the thorn-vines instead of out striding beneath the towering trees; and he never seemed to know where to put his massive paws to avoid stepping on his own tail or sometimes hers. 

He visited every day, though, no matter how much he had to squeeze and twist to get through the narrow entrance each time.

“Has Leafpool said anything to you?” he asked, amber eyes bright in the darkness.

Leafpool visited often too, and when she couldn’t, Squirrelflight—who was growing increasingly bored now she was no longer allowed to take on warrior duties—found her own excuses to trot over to the medicine cat den and watch her litter-mate move leaves this way and that, in some inexplicable method of sorting known only to Leafpool. 

“She thinks the litter will be born very soon,” said Squirrelflight, with a confidence she didn’t fully feel. “Just about any day now.”

Fear of being overheard kept Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw’s conversations in the campsite oblique and cautious, and even alone in the nursery they didn’t risk speaking outright to each other. 

With practiced care, Squirrelflight said, “We were talking this morning as she checked me over and she could feel them moving again. You know how they kick hard a lot?” Seeing Brambleclaw’s nod, she continued, “She thinks it’s probably the same kitten, always in that spot. Trying to fight already, she said. It’s going to be a strong one, just like you.”

 _I’ve got bruises all down this side_ , Leafpool had muttered as Squirrelflight groomed her tired sister in the earthy-smelling quiet of her den. _It feels like there’s a full grown tiger in there trying to get out_. 

They had paused at that thought, with an awkward twitch of ears. 

_Well, at least there’s that_ , Squirrelflight had said, the absurdity of the coincidence making her whiskers tickle. _We’ll call it family resemblance_ _and who would question it?_

“Just like me?” said Brambleclaw. His tail flicked up in delight, before catching on the thorns. 

“I think so,” said Squirrelflight, a purr welling up in her chest at the sight of him. “We’ll have to wait and see. But I think you’ll have a lot in common.”

Brambleclaw tugged his tail free, leaving a waft of brown fur on the vines. He scowled at it, before turning his attention back to her. 

“I miss you on patrols, you know,” he said, his voice warm and mellow. “The forest isn’t the same without you.” 

“ _I_ miss me on patrols,” said Squirrelflight, not bothering to hide her frustration. Brambleclaw’s eyes glinted with amusement. “I wish they would just be born already and I could have something to do that isn’t lie around and listen to everyone’s advice.”

There had been a lot of advice, from just about everyone. She knew it was mostly from affection and care for her, and partly from their own excitement, but it was overwhelming and did nothing to make her feel more prepared, or less bored.

Brambleclaw gave a little chuff.

“ _What_?” said Squirrelflight. 

“Oh, nothing,” said Brambleclaw, too-breezy. 

Ordinarily, Squirrelflight would have pounced on him until he confessed—but for now, she had to content herself with narrowing her eyes instead and glowering the truth from him, ears sharply low.

“I’m not sure you’ve ever listened to advice in your life,” said Brambleclaw in good humour, caving at once. 

Squirrelflight tossed her head. “I’m sure I would if I heard any that was _good_ ,” she said, flicking her tail tip in contrary defiance. “No-one can say I’m unreasonable.”

“No-one would dare,” agreed Brambleclaw, with such sudden, stark fondness in his expression that Squirrelflight felt self-conscious, too-aware and wondering how she must look in his eyes. She fluffed up her ruff to shake off the feeling, her fur prickling with unexpected warmth. 

“Anyway,” she said, more blithely than she felt, “how hard can it be to raise a couple of kittens, really? Give them some milk, keep them warm, make sure they grow up to be good cats that bring great honour to their clan. _Easy_. I’ll be done by before leaf-bare.”

“You’re nervous,” said Brambleclaw. He didn’t pose it as a question, but a gentle statement. 

Before she could reply, he crouched down to bump his cheek to hers. 

“You’re going to be fine,” he said, with such earnestness that she couldn’t help but believe it. “And I’ll be here. I can help.” 

He sat back up. Then he patted the floor with one broad paw, expression suspicious.

“Speaking of,” he said, “I think this needs more moss. Did you want me to bring you a sparrow on my way back?” he asked. “You’re looking a bit thin still.”

Squirrelflight sighed, but fondly. 

“No,” she said, “just the moss will be fine.”


	2. Brambleclaw helps name the kits, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: _Brambleclaw gets to take part in naming the Three (part 1 of 2)._

“It’s... unusual,” said Sandstorm, but there was no judgement in her deep voice. “Most queens wouldn’t. _I_ didn’t, as much as I respect Firestar.”

“I think I’d like to,” said Squirrelflight. “It feels right.”

It was late afternoon in the campsite. The sleepy, pleasant heat of greenleaf seemed nearly to hum against the quarry stones around them, and various strident bird calls sounded from the forest like the uneven heartbeat of the world.

Some lengths away through a crack in the rock, the new kittens murmured in the nursery. Goldenflower, Brambleclaw’s mother and undisputed queen elder of Thunderclan, had insisted on minding them while they slept to leave Squirrelflight to enjoy these precious moments of remaining sunlight with her own mother. 

“There’s no law against it,” said Sandstorm eventually. “Either way, in the end it will be Firestar announcing them to their ancestors, so _how_ you choose is queen’s business and no-one will ever ask. It would be your secret to keep.” She looked to Squirrelflight with half-closed eyes, content and slightly amused. “Please name them soon, though, my daughter. Firestar has been pacing a ditch in the elders’ quarter for the last day and leader or not, I think they are considering banishing him to his own den.” 

Squirrelflight snorted. “Why doesn’t he go do something useful?”

Sandstorm shifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Toms get like this sometimes,” she said, with a certain sardonic weariness. “They don’t know what they’re supposed to do when kittens are being born, so they do nothing and worry themselves and get in the way. Or,” she said, now glancing pointedly towards the entrance to the campsite, “they don’t know what to do, so they try to do _everything_.”

Brambleclaw was padding into view, carrying another very young rabbit. Earlier in the day, Goldenflower had commanded him to do his duties and leave the queens to theirs, and he had taken her at her word. 

“He reminds me of Lionheart, you know,” said Sandstorm, then added, “Goldenflower’s litter-mate. He was a great warrior when I was an apprentice, and I can remember him doing the very same thing any time she or Frostfur had a litter.”

Brambleclaw had caught sight of Squirrelflight by now, and she invited him over with a flick of her tail. 

“Good afternoon, Sandstorm,” he said, inclining his head to her after placing the rabbit kit at his paws.

“Another?” she said, sniffing the still-warm body. “That’s some luck.”

“No luck,” said Brambleclaw. “There’s an exposed nest of them out there, but I can’t find the doe. She must have abandoned them. I’m going to get the rest now before anything else does.” 

Sandstorm stood up, giving a little shake of her pelt. “No, I’ll do that for you,” she said. Squirrelflight had always admired how inarguable Sandstorm could be; she spoke with such plain certainty, as though disagreement was unthinkable. “You can take my place here. I think you two have something to talk about.”

She prowled away, dropping the rabbit on the prey pile as she passed.

“Is everything all right?” asked Brambleclaw, sitting beside Squirrelflight. There was a concerned set to his ears. “Are the kits okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” said Squirrelflight, sitting up as well. “Really.”

“Then…” he said, glancing after Sandstorm. 

“It’s about the kits,” said Squirrelflight. Now the moment was here, she felt nervous; even under the dark amber light of soon-to-be-sunset, she could imagine Starclan listening in curiosity and perhaps—although she dearly hoped not—disapproval. “It’s time we name them.”

Brambleclaw sat up, if possible, even straighter. “That’s great,” he said, but seemed uncertain how to continue. Custom allowed for a cat to be _told_ the details of a kitten’s birth, but it was forbidden to ever ask. “If you wanted to tell me…” he said, hesitating. 

“I want you to choose with me,” said Squirrelflight. 

Brambleclaw blinked. 

“They’re our kittens,” said Squirrelflight. _I have the same claim to them that you do_ , she thought. _Neither of us carried them_. “I want you to have a say.” 

Brambleclaw pressed himself to Squirrelflight’s side, his purr almost a roar against her ear.

“Now?” he asked. 

“As good a time as ever,” said Squirrelflight. “But we need Leafpool.” 

It was easy to find her. She was half-asleep in the medicine cat’s den, a freshly gathered clump of purple-flowered borage between her paws. She roused at once at the scent of Squirrelflight as she peered into the den, however, and then pushed the plant towards her.

“For your milk,” she said.

Squirrelflight bumped noses with her sister. 

“Thank you,” she said. “Will you come to the nursery with us now?”

“We’d like to name the kits,” added Brambleclaw. 

“ _We_?” said Leafpool, with a sceptical narrowing of eyes. “Both of you?”

“And you,” said Squirrelflight. 

“They’re your kits,” said Leafpool flatly. “But as medicine cat, I will of course witness your choice and tell Firestar it is time to declare the newest members of Thunderclan.”

“Leafpool,” said Squirrelflight. She willed into her voice some of her mother’s inarguable confidence. “I want you to be a part of this. Please.”

There was a moment of tense silence. 

Then, to Squirrelflight’s surprise, Brambleclaw spoke. “There are three kits,” he said, “and three of us. I’m not a medicine cat, so maybe I’m wrong, but doesn’t that seem like a sign to you? It’s like it’s meant to be.”

Leafpool’s cool resolve wavered, for just a moment, but it was enough. 

“All right,” she said after a long pause. “I’ll do it. But please give me until tonight. I need some time to think.”


	3. Brambleclaw helps name the kits, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: _Brambleclaw gets to take part in naming the Three (part 2 of 2)._

Leafpool arrived shortly before true moon-high, weaving her way into the nursery without difficulty or sound. She glanced first at Squirrelflight and the now stirring form of Brambleclaw curled beside her, and then down to the three kittens. 

Despite the darkness in the den, Squirrelflight saw Leafpool’s expression soften slightly. 

“Squirrelflight first,” said Leafpool, sitting beside her, “then Brambleclaw. I will go last.”

“Are you sure?” said Brambleclaw, before Squirrelflight could open her mouth.

“Yes,” said Leafpool. Her voice, calm and firm, held no invitation to discuss it further. She looked at Squirrelflight expectantly. 

Squirrelflight stared down at the kittens sleeping at her belly. It had never occurred to her before to question how queens chose names for their litters. She had always assumed it was some secret talent they all possessed, gifted to them by Starclan the same moment they realised the new life stirring inside them, and she never thought any more about it, expecting that wisdom to one day come as effortlessly to her when the time was right.

But the time was now, and the wisdom had not come. She had expected clear answers to fall into her mind, bright and loud and lovely as a song, but there was nothing. 

Beside her, Brambleclaw began to softly purr, his excitement too much to keep quiet.

“I’ll call him Lionkit,” said Squirrelflight. She touched her nose to the tiny tabby’s forehead. She imagined Goldenflower’s litter-mate, radiant in the greenleaf sunlight as he guarded the nursery, and wished his courage and kindness into the name as she passed it forward to her son. “I hope he brings honour to the name, and his clan.”

“It’s perfect,” said Brambleclaw, purring solidly beside her. 

“Now you,” said Leafpool, gesturing with her nose.

Brambleclaw leaned his head down to place a kiss to the head of the black kitten.

“I want to call her Hollykit,” he said to Squirrelflight’s surprise. There was a defiance in the set of his ears as he spoke, like he expected resistance, which maybe there would be; she herself would never have considered the name for any cat who wasn’t as flame-coloured as Firestar, or white as the moon. It was an unusually subtle thought for Brambleclaw. “She’s dark as the stems,” he added to Leafpool. “Shines like the leaves. I’m sure it’s been done before.” 

Leafpool considered. “Perhaps it has,” she said mildly. “There are other black berries, though. A less unusual name...”

“I would like it to be this one,” said Brambleclaw. 

Leafpool twitched her ears, conceding. “There’s nothing against it.”

“Then Hollykit,” he said, halfway to glowing with pride as he looked from the kitten to Squirrelflight. “It was under a holly tree you told me I was going to be a father, do you remember?” he said, then amended, “Well. _Asked_ me.”

Squirrelflight’s heart gave a strange little skip. 

“You told me the truth and you trusted me to choose you,” said Brambleclaw. “And them.” He once again looked at the sleeping litter, like it was hard to take his eyes off them for too long. “I can’t think of a better name for her. The holly tree will always make me think of truth,” he said, with a slightly embarrassed flick of an ear, “and faith. I hope these will guide her through her life.”

Squirrelflight pressed her head under his chin, purring so hard it was almost painful. 

“Did I do it right?” he said.

“That was beautiful,” said Squirrelflight. 

Leafpool gazed in silence for some time at the remaining kitten, the smaller tom. His fur was different again from both his litter-mates: neither truly grey or brown, but somewhere between; the colour of dust, of puddle-water. 

“His name is Jaykit,” said Leafpool without ceremony.

 _Another clever bird_ , thought Squirrelflight, but didn’t dare to say so aloud. 

“As Thunderclan medicine cat,” said Leafpool, with the crispness of habit, “I witness on behalf of this clan the naming of these kittens: Lionkit, Hollykit, Jaykit. As the humble servant of Starclan, I ask our ancestors to look fondly upon these young cats and bless their names, borrowed from warriors past to be given to warriors yet to come. Know them, as you know us, and guide their lives with your light until it is time for them to join you once more.”

She stood up. 

“I’ll tell Firestar now,” said Leafpool, padding towards the nursery entrance. “He’ll want to announce their names immediately.”

“You don’t want to stay a little longer?” said Squirrelflight, although she already knew the answer. 

“No,” said Leafpool, then added, with a wry note, “These things need to be done right, as much as possible.”

She disappeared between the crack in the rocks without waiting for a reply. 

“I should go wait outside too,” said Brambleclaw. “The entirety of Thunderclan is going to want to be in here to congratulate you soon and we hardly fit as it is.”

He stood up as well, stifling a stretch; there simply wasn’t room for it. Then he looked once more at the litter.

“Thank you,” he said. “It’s a great honour you’ve given me.”

“No kidding,” teased Squirrelflight, unable to help herself. “There’s some cats out there who’d kill for a chance to cozy up with me, I bet. I’ve seen jaws drop at the gathering before and I hadn’t even groomed that day.” 

Brambleclaw flattened his ears in mock disapproval. “You know what I mean. Naming her.”

Squirrelflight shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, that too, I guess.” She paused and forced herself to be serious for a moment more. “I’m glad you said yes. To everything. I wouldn’t want to do this without you.” 

Brambleclaw touched his nose to hers. 

“I’m with you,” he said. “Even when I’m not here.” 

Outside, the yowl of Firestar cut through the peaceful night.

“Better go,” said Squirrelflight. “If your hefty rump keeps Goldenflower from getting in, she’ll have your ears and I kind of like how they look on you.”

Brambleclaw gave a little half-roll of his eyes, but left, squeezing his way out of the nursery with the usual amount of challenge. 

Out in the night, Firestar began his announcement. Squirrelflight drew her tail around the kittens and pulled them close against her side.

“Welcome to Thunderclan, Lionkit,” she murmured, leaning down, “Hollykit. Jaykit. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Squirrelflight,” she added. “But you can call me ma.”


	4. The Three receive their full names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: _Do Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight have any input on the suffix-naming ceremonies for their kits? if so, i'd love to see the reasoning/meaning you put behind the three's suffixes (or what suffixes you choose, in case you've tinkered with their names!)._

Squirrelflight had planned on going hunting when dusk prayer ended, but when the last wails of the elders’ songs ebbed to quiet, giving way to the sounds of the forest, a familiar voice behind her caused her to pause.

“Squirrelflight,” said Firestar, “could I have your ear for a moment? I’m interested in your thoughts.”

She turned. Firestar was standing nearby, his plume of a tail—so like her own—curved in polite curiosity. 

“Of course,” she said, trotting over to him and bumping his cheek with her own. “Nothing wrong is there?”

“No,” said Firestar, comforting and warm. “But come with me to my den anyway, I don’t want to be overheard. Have you seen my deputy, by the way?” 

“He was putting together a patrol over—” Squirrelflight reared up on her back legs to look across the campsite and caught sight of Brambleclaw speaking to several cats near the entrance of the camp. “—there.”

“Get him for me, will you?” said Firestar. “I’d like him to be present for this conversation too. It’s good training.”

“But how in the light of Starclan will the patrol manage without him?” said Squirrelflight in a voice of teasing disbelief. 

Firestar blinked slowly in response, voice solemn. “It will be difficult,” he agreed. “We may lose many,  _ many _ cats tonight, but it’s a sacrifice I have to make.” Then he dropped the serious tone. “Go on, I don’t want him to leave while you’re here making jokes.”

“You continued it,” said Squirrelflight, but did as he asked and loped over to the warriors milling around, readying for patrol. 

Brambleclaw was in the centre of the group, talking with Brackenfur and Brightheart about what path to take, but stopped when he noticed Squirrelflight approaching. 

“About to go hunting?” he asked. 

“Only for deputies,” she said. Brambleclaw twitched an ear in confusion. “You’re coming with me. Firestar wants to talk to you.”

Brambleclaw cast a look at the patrol. “The patrol?”

“Pick someone else to lead it,” Squirrelflight said helpfully. 

“I’m happy to, if that helps, Brambleclaw,” said Brightheart. 

“There you go,” said Squirrelflight. “Thank you, Brightheart.”

Brightheart inclined her head. 

“Are you deputy or am I deputy?” said Brambleclaw to Squirrelflight, but without annoyance. “I forget.” 

“It’s probably me,” said Squirrelflight. “I hear a lot that I’ve got a certain decisiveness that is very appealing in a future leader,” she added, “and a natural talent for telling people what to do.”

“What about a knack for talking whiffle?” said Brambleclaw. 

Behind him, Brightheart met Squirrelflight’s gaze and squinted in amusement before gathering the other warriors and leading them from the campsite. 

“Oh,  _ definitely _ ,” said Squirrelflight. “Vital leader skill. Invaluable at gatherings. But I only ever seem to hear that from you, which makes me think that it’s probably your envy talking.”

Brambleclaw swung a massive paw at her in a mock-cuff, but she dipped easily out of the way. 

“You should stop playing around,” she chided him. “Firestar’s waiting.”

She bounded away from him in case he decided to try a cuff for real this time and stopped outside the entrance to Firestar’s den. It was a narrow crack in the stone, half-hidden by gnarled spurls of bramble. 

“Come in,” said Firestar from within. 

Squirrelflight padded inside, Brambleclaw following behind. They sat before Firestar and Squirrelflight stifled the glow of mischief tickling under her fur that evening. While there were frequently times she could tease and play with both Firestar and Brambleclaw, in the leader’s den, they were both more than just her family: they were the leader and deputy of Thunderclan, part of an ancient tradition, the heirs to every leader since the beginning of the clan. 

“I wanted to speak to you about the warrior ceremony,” said Firestar, speaking first as was custom. He addressed Squirrelflight more than Brambleclaw, and Brambleclaw himself seemed to be watching Firestar closely, as if in study. “Hollypaw and Lionpaw’s, that is.” 

Squirrelflight felt a spark of pride in her belly and sat up straighter, her chest puffed out. 

“I’ve spoken with their mentors already,” continued Firestar, “and Ashfur and Brackenfur are feeling that it’s time for them to receive their warrior names. They have both excelled at their training so far.”

Squirrelflight nodded, eyes narrow in contentment. 

“But before their names are awarded, I wanted to speak with you,” said Firestar. “Their mentors have already given me a good idea of their talents, and I will be overseeing their final trial myself, of course, but I was curious to know what _ your _ opinion might be, Squirrelflight.”

Squirrelflight quirked her head to the side in surprise and Firestar flicked his tail-tip, inviting her to speak.

“It’s not really common for leaders to consult mothers when choosing warrior names, is it?” she said cautiously, knowing the answer. 

“No, it’s not,” said Firestar. “But I’ve heard that there’s already something... irregular about how these three came to be.”

A shiver of dread, cold as snow-melt water, slithered down Squirrelflight’s spine. Did he know about Leafpool’s secret?

Then Firestar looked at Brambleclaw, and Squirrelflight relaxed. Brambleclaw drew his tail around himself, looking proud but also a little self-conscious in front of his leader. 

“Sandstorm told you,” said Squirrelflight.

“She may have mentioned it,” replied Firestar coolly, but his eyes glittered. “So, tell me, Squirrelflight: what names should I award my grand-kits?”

Squirrelflight considered the question. Eventually, she said, “I think it’s obvious.”

Firestar nodded. “Go on.”

“Hollyheart and Lionclaw,” said Squirrelflight. 

“That’s what I thought too,” said Firestar. “Brackenfur and Ashfur agreed when I spoke with them. I remember Ashfur saying something like it’d be like lying to Starclan to name Lionpaw anything different, and having seen him fight… well, he takes after you, don’t you think?” He glanced at Brambleclaw, who nodded as well. “Unanimous, then. It’s not often you get cats who are  _ so _ clearly destined,” added Firestar, after a thoughtful pause. 

“Are you happy to see Hollypaw follow your path?” asked Squirrelflight. 

Firestar looked both pensive and amused by the suggestion. “I’m not sure we’re that alike,” he admitted after a moment. “Maybe in our—” he seemed to be picking his words carefully “—tenacity, which maybe  _ some _ would call stubbornness, but when I was young, I was more often  _ in _ trouble for what I believed, because sometimes I didn’t follow the warrior code exactly.” 

_ That’s one way of saying it _ , thought Squirrelflight, but didn’t dare to say so out loud.  _ You made trouble all the time _ .

“I think  _ you _ grew up more like me than Hollypaw has,” said Firestar, eyes narrowed at her with evident fondness. Squirrelflight flicked her ears, feeling embarrassed by the attention, and Brambleclaw caught her eye and twitched his whiskers, clearly enjoying seeing her squirm a little. “I suspect if we had been apprentices together, she would have had even less time for me than Sandstorm did when we first met,” Firestar continued.

“Hollypaw means very well,” said Squirrelflight, compelled to defend her daughter. “She’s conscientious.” 

“There’s no doubt about that,” said Firestar. “In many ways, she reminds me a lot of Leafpool.”

Squirrelflight’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Thunderclan will be fortunate to have such a warrior,” added Firestar with his usual confidence. “Both of them have already made their clan, and their kin, very proud.”

“Thank you,” said Squirrelflight. She could see Brambleclaw was struggling not to preen. 

Firestar looked about to give them leave, so Squirrelflight quickly said, “What about Jaypaw?”

Firestar seemed to consider for a moment. “As medicine cat, it is Leafpool’s duty—and privilege—to assess Jaypaw and award him his name when the time comes,” he said. “I get no say in it and she won’t consult me for that I don’t think. The other clan’s medicine cats are more helpful than I would be when it comes to choosing a name for him anyway. But, for what it’s worth, I think the decision there is  _ also _ obvious.”

“Oh?” said Brambleclaw. He had been able to sit in controlled silence for nearly the entire conversation, but curiosity and surprise must have gotten the better of him.

Firestar nodded. “Yes, I think Leafpool has as little choice naming him as I do naming his litter-mates. Some cats’ names are easy to know. With his gift… there’s really no debate.”

“What will she name him?” asked Squirrelflight.

“Jayfeather,” replied Firestar. 

For the third time that night, Squirrelflight felt a strange shiver of fear ruffle her fur and she carefully showed no emotion.

Across from her, Brambleclaw looked confused. “I thought that was a Windclan name?”

“It is,” said Firestar, “but they use it differently than we do. Ours is rare and sacred. It is only used when there is a medicine cat who has been blessed with a gift for omen-reading and prophecy, like Jaypaw. I have never known a medicine cat with the name myself, but I know  _ of  _ one, from long before I was born. He was the litter-mate of Bluestar’s mother, and I’ve heard it said that he was one of the most gifted tellers Thunderclan has ever known. That was five medicine cats ago.”

“And that’s what she’ll call him?” said Squirrelflight, voice even.

“She’ll have no other option,” said Firestar. “When Spottedleaf was killed and Yellowfang became Thunderclan’s medicine cat, many elders were frightened that would be the end of the ways of  _ awvir _ . To now have a future medicine cat that is  _ so _ naturally gifted in telling…”

“It’s meant to be,” said Squirrelflight. Firestar nodded. 

“Hollyheart, Lionclaw, and Jayfeather,” said Brambleclaw. He looked to Squirrelflight. 

_ You named her for truth and justice _ , thought Squirrelflight, returning his gaze,  _ and look what she’s become: the warrior code’s own shadow, walking among us every day. _

_ I named him for the strength to defend what he loves _ , thought Squirrelflight,  _ and now he’s grown more powerful than I could ever have imagined. _

_ And Leafpool _ , thought Squirrelflight, her heart giving a sharp flinch of love and pity,  _ she named him for his father and now his father is shining through, in the most impossible and unavoidable way.  _

“They’re perfect names,” said Brambleclaw. 

“Meant to be,” said Squirrelflight again, and believed it.


End file.
